Hands Held High
by Junkyxl
Summary: With hands held high into a sky so blue, as the ocean opens up to swallow you. Harry: before, during, and after the final battle. My version.


**Hands Held High**

_With han__ds held high into a sky so blue  
__As the ocean opens up to swallow you_

Hoping had never accomplished anything, Harry thought, as he went from room to room, searching up and down for any suspicious placements. He'd been pacing, to put it more accurately, nervously around the building for hours now, every nerve in his being prickling with anticipation. He felt suspicion everywhere, narrowing his eyes at anyone and anything, thinking it could all very well be dangerous, put there by some invisible enemy.

He was hoping against hope that it would all turn out alright. He held the weight of the world in his young hands, and, though it would be too much for anyone else to take, revelled in the fact that he would be able to either avenge his parents tonight, or die fighting at the hands of some nameless scum before even reaching his nemesis. It wasn't a matter of life or death for Harry. It was a matter of finally settling whatever it was that had been dominating his life since the tender age of one.

He was ready, had been ready for some time now, to face head on what his ultimate destination was to be. He'd accepted it, accepted that fate had dealt him some wrong doings, but ultimately, his conscious won out in the matter, telling him he wouldn't let anyone else carry the burden for him. It wasn't because he was feeling courageous, or anything like that, even though that was a key factor, it was mostly because he couldn't picture himself leading anything other than a normal life. This fight seemingly against the world, this lightning shaped scar on his forehead, it was all a part of him as much as his raven coloured hair was a part of him.

"Harry?"

He looked up, eyes piercing the darkness that surrounded them all.

"Are you alright?"

He gave a tiny smile, noticing the wince she gave. He didn't really smile anymore, gave more grimaces than anything else. It wasn't that he was so dark and cold that he'd lost all sense of joyous things. He was just ready, ready for the fight, ready for life to come to a conclusion, ready to find out the fate of the Wizarding World once and for all. He didn't feel the need to please anyone with naiveties anymore.

"I will be," he finally replied, slouching down on a chair, letting his legs rest for the first time in hours.

Hermione kneeled in front of him, eyes worried, yet surprisingly clear of any other emotions. He'd expected tears at the very least, but he'd underestimated her strength once again. She'd shown remarkable knowledge these past few months, had pointed out nearly all the locations of the horcruxes, and stayed with him through it all. Never once had she crumbled down, never once had she cried, and he was strangely proud of it, but worried too.

She took his hand, rubbing circles on the back of it. It soothed him, calmed his racing heart down. He'd always pictured Hermione as the mum of the group, and he'd always felt compelled to open up towards her more than anyone else because of that. She hugged him, touched his hand in comforting ways, and helped him through hard times by just being there. He imagined his own mum to do much the same as her, and sometimes wondered if Hermione did it all just to compensate for not having had a mother.

He felt a tear trickle down on his hand, and he looked up, seeing Hermione silently sobbing. He tugged on her hand, bringing her upwards so he could give her a hug. She knew it, and he knew it, and they both knew that this could very well be the last moment they would ever have together.

Ron came in, shaking to the bone, eyes puffy and red, and Harry knew he just came from his family. They were all saying goodbye to each other, feeling like it had to be done in order to go into battle peacefully. They needed to expect casualties, and saying goodbye was the only way to expect oncoming death.

Hermione didn't look up, she just reached out her other hand, and then they were in a three way hug, letting the silence speak for itself, telling them everything they couldn't bring out in words themselves.

Harry would miss them the most. They were his first friends, they had given him the first taste of family, and they had stuck by him all these years. They were the Golden Trio, had an unbreakably bond, and Harry was sure that if it hadn't been for his two best friends, he'd have died a long time ago.

He was the first to pull away, the feeling in his gut intensifying by the minute, and he knew the time had finally come. He looked out the window, noticing the sun peaking from the horizon, having just come up. It screamed the beginning of the end to him, and he felt something settle inside of him, even more so than it had already done before. He smiled to himself and let out a sigh. He was content with the world, content with the way he had lived his life, and if he were to die today, he'd have the knowledge that he had done everything he could, and that he'd done nothing else but done his very best.

Ron and Hermione stepped back at the same time, holding hands and giving him a slight nod of approval. Harry would go first, lead them in battle, because he was, and always had been, the leader. He gave them a smile, a real one, not a grimace or a wince, or anything else. It comforted them, and together they stepped out the building.

He'd never spoken a word to them, but they had said all they had needed to say months and moments before. It had all been done a long time ago, they'd prepared and prepared, and the moment was finally there.

"Harry! Harry, they're here!" someone yelled, and Harry was torn free from his friends, pushed to the front of the line to assume his position as the leader. It would've scared him a couple of years ago, but not anymore. He was born to do this, this was his destiny.

"Alright, let's begin. I just want to let you all know that no matter what happens today, you did your best, I know that you will all do your best, and if you were to die, you died as a hero. I am proud of all of you, of how far we have come, and I do not doubt that we will give them hell."

Harry paused a moment, taking a last look at all of the soldiers. They had come so far, and he didn't doubt for a second that they had the power to win. It had taken months to gather up an army, too many people had been afraid to join in the fight, but they had finally gotten enough manpower. He was proud of them, of all of them. Not just the people he knew, like the Weasley's, Lupin, the teachers of Hogwarts, his classmates, and of course Hermione and Ron, but he was proud of every single person there, of every single person that had contributed to their side of the war.

They could win this, he was sure.

"Now, go out there, and show them what we've got," he called out, and in the back of his mind, it processed the fact that these could be the last words he would ever say.

The fight begun as quickly as it would end, Death Eaters were quick to invade their army, and dark versus light would be seen everywhere. People were killing everything in eye sight, not knowing whether or not it was a team mate or an enemy.

It was dark and gory, but it had to be done in order to settle this war. Harry had been separated from his friends pretty quickly, Voldemort had singled him out within minutes.

They didn't spar, didn't talk, and didn't acknowledge each other in any way other than enemies. They just began fighting, no long detour, no blazing trumpets, just a fight between two powerful wizards.

Voldemort whipped out one killing curse after the next, and for this moment, Harry did the exact same. There was no other way to kill the angry demon, and he'd accepted long ago that he would have to kill Voldemort with the same green curse he saw in his nightmares over and over again.

It had happened in one split second.

The fate of the world had been decided in one second, and Harry had the pleasure of indulging himself in the irony of it in the same second.

Voldemort died at the hands of Harry Potter with an ear splitting scream, bursting his lifeless soul for ever. It had happened normally, no real drama, only death, and it was with dead eyes that Harry surveyed the grounds. Nobody really knew that Voldemort had died until one unfortunate soul had happened upon the body of Voldemort and Harry, and had screamed it to all and above. Death Eaters dropped their wands like lightning, though several attempted to go out with a mad bang, rather killing themselves than being subjected to trial.

Nobody really noticed Harry Potter in those moments. He was feeling the after effects of the ordeal, holding his hand squarely against his stomach, his heart beating slower and slower. He had a content look on his face, his eyes filled with dreamy happiness. He was seeing something no one else was, and felt like he had fulfilled his destiny. He was ready, ready for the next great adventure.

He'd said goodbye to his family of friends, he'd done what he'd been required to do, and he was ready to go.

He held his arms up in the sky, watching the grey clouds move aside to show the blue heaven. He felt his parents' presence there, felt Sirius and Dumbledore and all others he knew who'd passed away calling to him, and with hands held high he let go of everything he once knew.

_With hands held high into a sky so blue  
__As the ocean opens up to swallow you_


End file.
